


April's Fall

by Nerd2614



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Manipulation, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd2614/pseuds/Nerd2614
Summary: Rule one: Never answer any call or speak to anyone whilst outside of the house, even if it sounded like your grandmother.Rule two: Never accept gifts from strangers you met in, or surrounding the forest, and always be cautious when accepting gifts whilst in town.Rule three: Never leave the house without your iron dagger and iron wrist cuffs.Rule four: Never leave the house or linger outside after the sun begins to set.Rule five: Never answer the door, or calls from outside at night.Rule six: Never stray from the path, no matter the circumstances.Original prompt: https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/186434298328/all-throughout-your-childhood-and-teen-years-your
Kudos: 3





	1. A Magic Rose

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt come from write-it-motherfuckers on tumblr and can be found at https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/186434298328/all-throughout-your-childhood-and-teen-years-your

All throughout your childhood and teen years, your grandmother had always had a strange but very firm set of rules. Living out in the middle of the forest, almost a full days walk from town, naturally came with many dangers, all of which you had been taught how to handle at a young age. The six rules your grandmother always stressed however, were different than one would expect. 

Some of them made made sense, like **rules four** (never leave the house or linger outside after the sun begins to set) and **five** (never answer the door, or calls from outside at night). Even **rules two** (never accept gifts from strangers you met in, or surrounding the forest, and always be cautious when accepting gifts whilst in town) and **six** (never stray from the path under any circumstances) weren’t that bad.

However the first and third rules were outright bizarre. **Rule one** was to never answer any call or speak to anyone whilst outside of the house, even if it sounded like your grandmother, which made no sense because how could something sound like your grandmother? 

Then there was **rule three** : never leave the house without your iron dagger and iron wrist cuffs. Again, this was baffling as you didn’t have the strength to cuff anyone; your greatest asset was your speed. In addition, your short iron dagger was not long nor sharp enough to hurt a rabbit, let alone anything with fowl intentions.

You had asked about the odd rules before, and was only met with an, “April, just do as I say”. So those rules, strange as they were, had been drilled into you since you were a child. Your grandmother acted almost fanatic in her protection of you in your younger years. For a time, your grandmother had loosened her over protectiveness on you, allowing you some freedom as a young preteen and teen though the rules always remained unchanged. You used that opportunity to explore the town whenever you had the chance, something you had deeply enjoyed, even if the townsfolk did treat you a bit strangely. There were never cruel, but always cautious, nervous even. This always confused you because there was nothing obviously different between the townsfolk and you.

However since the start of autumn this year, your grandmother seemed to have almost doubled her protectiveness of you. She once again forced you to stay where she could watch you, despite the fact that you had turned 17 earlier that year and were now classed as an adult. It was stifling, but she was all that you had, and you refused to push her away just because she cared a little too much.

Today was one of the few days that she had relaxed her control a little, and you rather eagerly took the chance to go and spend some time out of the house, picking berries at a lovely little spot near the stream that was within one of your grandmother’s designated “safe zones”. Enamoured as you were with the moment of peace, you almost didn’t notice as pink bled into the clear blue sky. The sun was setting and stars began to dot the eastern horizon. 

With a pounding heart you gathered up your basket, not even pausing to put on your coat, and deftly dashed down the thin path. You knew the weaving trail by heart so it did not matter that the trees seemed to blur with how fast you went. You knew if you were even a _moment_ late your grandmother would tighten her hold on you even more, something that you really didn’t want to deal with. 

You were only a few minutes away from the house when something snagged the end of your dress and you found yourself coming to a sudden stop. You cursed in a delicate voice. _This is the last thing I need_ , you thought as you nimbly worked to free your dress.

Deep yet soft laughter interrupted your progress. You tensed. The sound came from a tall, shadowy figure slouched against the old oak further along, slightly off the path. You decided to ignore them, ripping your dress in frustration. You had to get home quickly. 

You cautiously moved passed the figure. He was tall, dressed in fine clothes and his long brown hair was woven into braids with golden leaves. You noted that he was handsome before slowly proceeding to make your way home again.

A pained sigh and the rustle of leaves caught your attention before you could take another step. The urge to turn around was strong so you peeked at the stranger again. 

You froze.

The stranger was now on the ground, still slouching against the old oak. His expression was one of someone trying (and failing) to hide their pain. His shoulders heaved slowly, shaking with the strenuous effort of breathing. You then noticed he was clutching a substantial oozing gash in his side. The fine clothing he wore was stained with blood. In the back of your mind you registered that a trail of it was leading from the direction you were headed.

Without thought or hesitation, you sank to your knees before him. You abandoned your basket after you tore off a section of your coat and carefully pressed it over the strangers wound. You were so intently focused on helping him stem the flow of scarlet, that you didn’t notice as he flinched at the sight of the iron cuffs attached to your hip. 

He leant back from you as the cuffs dangled dangerously close to him.

Letting out a soft sound of distress, you moved further forward off the path **_~~rule six~~_** pressing your hand more firmly over the wound and ignored the warmth of their blood that quickly stained your hands. 

~~_**Rule one**_~~ “Please, stay still. You need to keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”

Your voice was timid and quiet as you spoke. Your eyes were watery with worry as you pressed more cloth over the wound, shifting closer still in your attempt to help. When no response came, you finally looked up. You froze again when you found the stranger staring at you in awe and wonder. His pale face was no longer shielded by his long hair. Now that you were closer, you couldn’t help but catch sight of the strands of reds and orange hair that melded with the brown.

Your breath hitched as you took in the delicately pointed ears and his unnatural ethereal beauty. His strange golden eyes glowed softly like two setting suns in the dimming light **_~~rule four~~_**. So entranced by the sight of this stranger, you didn’t notice him moving until you felt the back of his blood stained fingers ever so gently brush over your cheek, as though to check if you were really there before him. 

“ ** _….It’s you_**.” 

The light touch and raspy voice snapped you out of the trance you found yourself falling into.

“I have to go home. Please, come with me. My grandmother will know what to do.” You pleaded with the stranger who smiled secretly.

“ **I will do anything for you, my darling one, but I can not let you return to her.** ” He grasped one of your hands firmly between his own. “ **Now that I have found you, I must insist that you come with me, my April**.”

A cold feeling trickled down your spine and spread like a wildfire through you. Fear. You stood suddenly and took a hesitant step backwards. _How does he know my name?_

“I-I’m sorry, you must have hit your head, mister. I don’t know you and I must be going.” Another step backwards, toward the basket, toward the path, safety.

Hurt danced across his pale face before morphing into understanding.

He rose, wound seemingly forgotten as he bowed cordially. The excess coat pieces fluttered to the ground. “ **In that case, my good lady, I apologise for my behaviour. Please, take this as a token of my gratitude and apology.** ” A beautiful white rose appeared in his hand.

You hesitated, “I’m sorry mister, I’m not supposed to-”

“ **Receive gifts from strangers?** ” You nodded at his interruption. “ **But ‘tis not a gift, only a harmless flower.** ”

 _True_ , your devilish mind thought. _I’ve already broken some of the rules…_

The stranger sensed your trepidation, “ **I must insist you take it.** ”

_… so what was one more?_

You reached out to retrieve the pure white rose. **_~~Rule two~~_**

“ **It’s getting dark, my lady. Should you not be home by now? Evil prowls after dark.** ” The fair stranger smirked, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Oh!” You stepped onto the path. However, you paused as one foot still lingered on the wild side. “Are you certain you will be alright, mister?” The stranger nodded ruefully and you made to scamper down the path before hesitating again.

“What is your name, sir?” 

He smiled, “ **I shall tell you when we next meet, dear April** ”. His voice seemed to echo softly through your mind.

You hurriedly snatched your basket and took off down the path. The rose grasped tightly in your hand and the cold twilight air snapping at your heels. It was only when you reached the front door that you realised that the trail of blood started half a step away from the door.

You did the special knock and entered.

“Where have you been, child? Where is your coat?” You were slightly surprised that the first question wasn’t ‘why are your hands red?’ before realising they were clean. _Odd_ , you thought.

“I’m sorry, ‘Ma, I was picking berries and when I realised the time I ran straight home. I must have left my coat in the clearing.” The not-quite truth flew easily out of your mouth. You were surprised at that, as usually you couldn’t lie to your grandmother. Even more surprising was that she seemed to believe you.

“Alright, April. From now on you will be home an hour after noon or you will be confined to your bedroom.” You nodded, in no mood to push your luck. If you behaved perfectly perhaps the restrictions would once again loosen.

You noted the tiredness in your grandmother’s eyes and her sagging posture. She looked old, weary. She must have had a long day.

“You look tired, grandma. I’ll put the berries in the kitchen and make you some tea.”

“Thank you, child.” You grandmother smiled, slumping into the nearest armchair. 

You made sure to quickly make her tea. When you delivered it to her, you yawned noticeably. 

“I’m going to rest before dinner, did you need anything else?” Your grandmother shook her head and gazed out of the window into the forest. You could have sworn you saw the stranger’s glowing eyes, but you blinked and they were gone.You must be hallucinating again. _I really do need some sleep_.

You took your basket, now empty of berries, to your room. You set it down in its place and moved over to your window. The night had truly set in now. The dim light from the crescent moon illuminated the white rose you cradled in your hands. 

The rose was almost too perfect. It had no blemishes. The petals were so white that they almost glowed on their own. Sharp thorns dotted the stem. You admired the rose for a moment longer before you sighed and moved to sit on the bed. The stars winked mischievously at you from the outside, teasing you with their freedom. 

You closed your eyes and dreamt of the strange man with pointed ears.

> _Sunlight filtered through the tall trees. It made a mottled golden pattern on the red carpet of leaves. I rose from my bed and walked to the window. It was framed by intertwined branches dotted with perfect little white flowers. I gazed out and felt at peace._
> 
> _“I’ve missed you, my darling.”_
> 
> _I whirled around at the deep voice. “My love!” I cried and rushed into his arms. He picked me up and twirled me around, chuckling. My dress fluttered around me like flames. I laughed merrily, hugging him tight. “I miss you, every day.”_
> 
> _I gazed up at him tenderly. It had been so long since I had seen him. I couldn’t recall how long exactly, but I knew it was a long time. His soft smile made something click inside me. Something that I didn’t realize was missing, I had now regained._
> 
> _“We don’t have long, my sweet April.” He whispered, breath tickling the shell of my ear. His words made me ache._
> 
> _“Why, my love?” I asked, voice just as soft. I did not want to lose him again._
> 
> _His hands drifted gently down my back to my hips. “You are dreaming. We used to meet here often until that witch took you from me.”_
> 
> _I gasped, eyes wide. “I, I don’t remember…”_
> 
> _Feelings and fuzzy images flashed through my mind._ Happiness and deep laughter. A pale boy dressed in black with a grim expression. The same boy, but a young man now, in flaming armour pleading with me to run. Heart-wrenching grief. A single white rose.
> 
> _Suddenly I was falling. He tried to catch me but I slipped through his fingers, I heard him call my name and -_

You bolted upright in your bed, heart pounding. You looked around the room and noticed the rose on your pillow, beside where your head had been. It still seemed to glow, but looked different. You picked it up to investigate. At the bottom of the rose in the very centre, there was a breath of what looked to be red.

“April!” Grandmother’s call from downstairs made you hide the rose beneath your pillow.

“Yes?” Your voice sounded groggy.

“Come down for dinner, pet!” 

“Coming!” You called back, rolling out of bed. You made your way downstairs and was greeted with the sight of a table full of your favourite foods. You sat down and smiled. “Thank you, ‘Ma.”

“It’s alright, pumpkin. I felt you needed something to cheer you up. The rules, harsh as they are, are there for a reason.” That was something she always said. “Now drink up, you’ve been asleep for a while and must be thirsty.”

In front of you was a mug of clear, steaming liquid with no smell. It was something you drank without question many times before, especially after hallucinating. This time you had a gut feeling that whatever’s in there was something you did not want to drink. “Thanks, but not really.” 

Other than forcing it down your throat there was nothing she could do to make you drink it. You might have imagined it, but you could have sworn that anger flashed across your grandmother’s face.

“Alright, pumpkin. Maybe later.” 

The two of you finished the meal in silence.


	2. Suspicions & Secrets

Over the past three weeks you’d continued to have odd dreams about the stranger with glowing eyes. Every other night was a dream filled with incomplete visions of a distant past that never seemed quite real. For all the dreams you had, you had still not learned your stranger’s name. Whenever you had asked, he always told you that you would know soon enough.

Yet each time you met him in the dreams, you could never quite recall what it was. A name always dangled on the tip of your tongue, but nothing ever formed. Letters swirled around in your head, frustratingly out of reach.

You noted that each time you had a dream the once pure white glow of the rose faded slightly. Other than a hint of red leaching up through the base of the petals, the rose had not changed since the moment your stranger gave it to you.

The flashes of your initial dream were slowly being fleshed out over time.

A general feeling of happiness came from a picnic and being chased by a pale young boy. It came from playing games with him, with people who you could never quite make out the faces of. Deep laughter came from a kind old man with a circle of gilded flowers resting on his grey hair. The white roses that the boy always gave you. The twin white roses the boy, who now looked 16, placed gently on what looked to be a grave. After that the old man didn’t see the two of you anymore. He was always busy. You tried but could not figure out who died. You only knew that they were important to both you and the boy with Autumn hair.

Out of desperation you asked the mysterious man whom called you his love. Each time he smiled sadly and shook his head. “ **You are not ready yet, my dear.** ” He claimed that you would not believe him. Deep down you knew that to be true.

And so the cycle continued. The harder you tried to piece together the puzzle, the more elusive the answer was. The most confusing vision was the one in which the pale boy turned into a young man with flaming armour, screaming at you, pleading with you to run. You were also clad in light armour and carrying a thin blade. You had no memories after that.

With the dreams came doubts about your grandmother. Since they began, you’d been avoiding her as much as possible. It was a difficult endeavor as you were still under ‘house arrest’ in the small woodland home which the two of you shared. 

Grandmother was becoming suspicious. Not only had you been quite successfully avoiding her, you had also not drank anything she gave you. You tried to avoid eating anything she made too. While your behaviour was out of the ordinary, your grandmother could not outright say anything about it lest you start asking questions. Questions that she did not want to answer.

The more you avoided her and her cooking, the more your mind seemed to clear. You noticed gaps in your memory and holes in your grandmother’s stories. Anything before age 10 was completely gone. Large gaps in your memory were present until you turned 16. You couldn’t recall your parents at all.

The more you focused on the gaps, the more desperate you became. How could this have happened?

After three weeks of unexplainable dreams and feelings, you were in dire need of answers. So you decided that whenever grandmother went out, you would search the house. 

It took another week before you were left alone. You waited a few moments after she left in case she returned. After searching for hours, you found absolutely no mention of your parents at all. There were no pictures, paintings or even old diaries. It was like they never existed.

The more you looked around the house, the more confused you had become. You noted there was no historical books or anything of you as a child. Over the period of a fortnight, you searched the entire cottage from top to bottom. The only places you were unable to check were your grandmother’s bedroom and a locked door you had never taken notice of before. 

It looked to be broom closet. You raked through your memories to see what it was. There were contradicting memories of your Grandmother saying that it was a broom closet, a little pantry, a storage cupboard, a coat room… it was different each time! You tried to pick the lock but it was no use. You would have to go into town in order to gather materials.

With your mind made up, you decided to come up with an excuse to go over to the town.

That night came yet another dream. By now, you were very familiar with the room in the trees. The scenery never changed. It seemed timeless. Caught frozen in time and space. 

The man you saved would always be there; he coaxed you to remember. It was difficult. It seemed like there was nothing to remember. There was something in your mind encouraging you to forget.

It was the man who gave you an idea of how to convince your grandmother to let you go to town. As the two of you sat at the table, you drew a deep breath.

Smiling, you asked, “Can I go to town tomorrow please, Grandmother?”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

You put your spoon down, “Oh, I wanted to get a few books.”

She copied your action. “On?” Your Grandmother narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Nothing much…” You trailed off. Seeing that wouldn’t be enough, you elaborated. “I’d like some more cooking books.”

Grandmother contemplated for a moment before conceding, “Very well. Ensure that you pick up some lemon-thyme whilst you are in town.”

“Thank you, Gran.” You forced yourself to smile despite the bitter taste that the word left in your mouth.

“You may go at sunrise tomorrow. Remember to not stray from the path, child. I expect you to be back the following day.” She said dismissively. 

“Yes, Grandmother.”

It was the first time you’d been allowed into town since that fateful day in the woods and you were almost paranoid. You thought you saw the man in the woods as you walked the path to town. A flash of brown and fire. A rustle in the bushes. A sigh.

When you stopped for a break at midday you were certain that there was a voice calling you to wander off the path. You hurriedly finished your bread and continued at a fast pace to town. There was something wrong. You just knew it. 

It was late afternoon when you arrived. The first thing you noticed was that everyone was acting rather odd. When you interacted with some of the townsfolk, they seemed guilty and danced around topics. They had an overall aura of fear. 

Thankfully the blacksmith had some of the tools you needed in stock. He was quite suspicious and nervous about allowing you to purchase them. When you insisted they were to help you fix the lock at the front entrance, he reluctantly sold you the tools. They were exactly what you thought you would need to unlock the strange door. The townsfolk acted even stranger than they had been when you exited the smithy. Pitying, whispering, fear, apprehension, were all words to describe their behaviour towards you.

You dismissed their behaviour to be deconstructed at a later time and made your way to the little herb shop to get lemon-thyme. The old man in there had always made you feel welcome. You felt a sort of kinship with him for some reason. When you asked for the herb your grandmother requested, he looked incredibly sad and guilty. It was a similar expression to the one the old man had in your dreams.

“Take zis.” He said gruffly. ‘This’ was a small vial of a white swirling cloud. “Have it next time you meet ‘im.” 

You had to stop yourself from taking a step back. “Yo- Wha- I have no idea what you are talking about.” It was impossible to meet his eyes.

The small, sad smile faded from his face before you could look at him again. He pressed the vial into your hands. “It will ‘elp. I promise you.”

You were confused, but complied with his wishes.You bid him farewell, promising to see him next time. After you left he whispered a final farewell. He would not live to see your next visit, not if you did the right thing.

From the small apothecary, you headed to the small library. The sun was starting to set now, so you made sure to hurry. The old librarian almost always closed at sundown.

There was a new person that greeted you when you entered. He was pretty cute with his brown hair, blue eyes and glasses. But something inside you rejected the thought, was disgusted by him even. That little part inside you warned you to run. It kept niggling at you, but you pushed it to the side.

“Good evening.” He smiled. His voice sent a cold shiver down your spine.

“Hello.” You looked around for the old man but couldn’t see him. “Is there any chance that Mister -”

“He’s gone. How can I help you?” The young man interrupted. His smile was just a little too wide, just enough that it was unsettling. 

“I need some cooking books.” You conceded warily.

His smile widened further, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. “Of course, Miss April. They should be over here.”

It was bigger than you remembered. There were many more rows to weave between. The library was more of a maze. A sinister feeling was starting to creep its way through you.

“Here you are.” He spun around quickly, trying to catch you off guard. You maintained the careful distance between the two of you. He watched over your shoulder as you browsed. After picking a couple of books, you hugged them close to your body. They were another barrier.

You looked down and mumbled a question. He tilted his head to indicate that he didn’t hear.

“Do you have any books on history?” You repeated, refusing to look up from the ground.

“Here you are.” He said, leading you to the next shelf.

You shook your head after reading some of the titles. “No, I mean factual history.”

Something sparked in the young man’s eyes. An odd emotion flashed across his face but he quickly covered it with a horrifyingly charming smile. It must have been a trick of the light. “Please follow me around to the back. We keep all those types of books in there.”

“Why?” I stepped forward and he turned his back to me.

His shoulders tensed. “I just haven’t put them out yet.”

“But…” you trailed off as he started walking back towards a slightly hidden door. What he said didn’t make sense. He hasn’t put the books out yet but they belong in the back room? Again, you shook off the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to linger. 

“Are you coming? You don’t have to.” He called from behind the counter. There was something strange in his voice. He almost sounded like he was hoping that you would just leave. That made you more determined to find out the truth.

“I’m coming.” You said firmly.

You walked through the door and 

\- woke up in a bed. 

You shot upright, noting that the room was simple. There was a chair with a folded dress and cloak, the bed, and a nightstand. It looked like a room at the inn. You stood up and promptly fell on the bed when your knees buckled. The open window allowed a cool breeze to run over your exposed skin. Sunlight also weakly filtered into the room. You couldn’t recall changing into your nightclothes, yet that was what you were dressed in. As you reached towards your satchel, your muscles ached in protest. There were red marks on your wrists that disturbed you.

With urgency, you rifled through your satchel, breathing a sigh of relief when your rose was still there. You were deeply confused. Though you searched, you could find no clear memories of last night.

You clutched the rose tightly. A thorn pricked your finger and you hissed in pain.

> _“ **We’ve got to stop meeting like this. Come with me, my love**.” My pale hero whispered to me._

> _“How do I know that you’re not the one messing with my mind? Grandmother has been nothing but kind to me. Harsh sometimes, but that’s necessary.” My head was spinning. Nothing made sense. My wrists throbbed. He noticed and softly kissed them._

> _“ **My dear April, please.** ” He was begging._

> _I shook my head._

Startled, you thrust the rose gently into the satchel and held your pricked finger. Your heart was thudding fast. It continued its frantic beat as you dressed quickly and rushed out of the inn. You made eye contact with no-one as you hurried out of the town. If you kept up a steady pace, you would make it home by sundown.


	3. Ruffled Feathers

The thoughts were swirling through your mind in time with the thudding of your quick footsteps along the dirt path. Even as you found it hard to breathe, you forced yourself to keep going. Fire coursed beneath your skin. Your breathing was laboured. The trees blurred past as you forced yourself forward. A metallic taste became apparent in your mouth. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. The emotions you pushed down were threatening to spill over.

You didn’t stop running until the town started to disappear beyond the horizon. After that, you kept your pace quick as you could to escape the town and leave behind the confusion. You had too many questions. Why didn’t you remember getting to the inn? Why did you feel like you had left behind something important? Wh-

Your foot caught on a stray rock and you crashed to the ground. Your thoughts, like the breath in your lungs, were forcefully ejected from you. The trauma you couldn’t consciously remember from the night before finally caught up to you. That and the shock of falling made you burst into tears.

Angrily, you swiped at the tears and gently lifted up your skirts to survey the damage. 

“Not even a graze.” You whispered aloud to yourself, breaking into hysterical laughter. The tears resumed as you hugged your knees to your chest and started rocking gently. Back and forth, back and forth. Since you had met that stranger on the path your life had been turned upside down. You didn’t know who to trust. You didn’t know what to believe.

_ I’m okay. I’m fine. This is all just a nightmare. I’m fine. _

A raven landed silently just out of arm’s reach and observed, its head cocked to the side. The handsome black bird made a soft noise to catch your attention. When it didn’t work, the regal creature hopped closer and made the noise again.

“Oh. Hi there, little one.” Your smile was as watery and thin as your voice. 

The raven obviously took that as an invitation. He fluttered over to stand next to you. Still making soft noises, he nudged you gently with his head. He allowed you to pet him but moved back as you went to pick him up.

He glided close to the treeline and looked back at you. Then came back and repeated the process thrice more.

“What’s in there? Do you want me to follow you?” You asked as you forced yourself to stand.

The raven responded with an urgent noise. He hopped closer to the edge of the path.

“I’m not meant to stray from the path.” You gently scolded him.You looked around for your satchel and noticed the contents had spilled. A sigh escaped your lips as you bent over to pack it.

The raven squawked a warning and you felt a wind woosh passed your head.You whirled around to see a large vulture-like creature attacking him. The raven valiantly tried to fight back but the larger bird was too strong.

“Leave him alone!” You shouted frantically. You looked for a stick or something to shoo off the bird but couldn’t see any. That’s when you saw the rock you had tripped over earlier. You pried it from the ground and lobbed it at the large bird, catching its leg.

The horrible vulture-like creature squawked and turned to eyeball you. With no regard for your own safety, you grabbed a handful dirt and dust from the trail and threw it in the bird’s eyes. You taunted and chased the bird until it flew over the tree tops and disappeared.

You dusted yourself off and made your way back to where your satchel and the raven should be. When you got there, the injured raven had disappeared. The only proof that he was there at all were the stray black feathers littered on the trail. You looked around but could see no other traces of the raven.

The bizarre thing was that when you went to finish packing your satchel, it was already done. You swung the pack onto your back and continued down the trail at a much slower pace. Everything was trying to work itself out in your mind. 

Nothing made sense anymore. 

You were still reeling from the lost memories last night and the mysterious marks on your wrists. Now with this latest incident with the birds, you were struggling to find the significance behind it. Why had the raven come up to you? Why had both of the birds seemed familiar?

The trail was much more quiet the closer you got to home. It was about mid-morning when you noticed a figure bustling down the path. As the figure drew closer, you recognised it as your grandmother. She stopped when she saw you and gestured for you to come to her.

“Where have you been?” Grandmother demanded shrilly.

“I - to town.” You frowned. Did she not remember?

She nodded, turned slowly and started back down the trail towards the house.

“Did you get my herbs?”

“I think so.” You had no memory of going to the little shop. You checked your satchel and saw the herbs so you must have gone in. “Yes, here they are.”

Your grandmother snatched them from you to put them in one of her cloak’s pockets. That drew your attention to her slight limp. Before you could ask about it, she questioned you about the library.

“Yes, I-” A crystal clear picture surfaced in your mind of you going into the library, meeting the new librarian who was kind enough to show you the books on sewing and leaving with a promise to come back soon. “I like the new librarian.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Your grandmother grinned knowingly.

“Of course you do, pumpkin. He’s quite the charmer.”

“Indeed.” You agreed absentmindedly. Your gut churned at thinking of the librarian; it made you sick. Something about the memory was wrong.

Grandmother kept muttering under her breath on the way to the house. You were able to make out a couple of words, but they sounded like they were from a different language. 

A light breeze rushed through the trail. It disturbed a bloodied raven’s feather from your Grandmother’s hair.

You froze.

“What is it?” Grandmother demanded roughly, not slowing her pace.

“N-nothing.” You shook your head and caught up to her. It must have been a coincidence.

The walk to the house took longer than usual with your grandmother’s slow, limping gait. The sky was painted with dark pinks and navy when the house came into view.

Your grandmother bustled off into her room. The sound of the door closing seemed to echo around the house. 

After what happened over the course of the day you didn’t have much of an appetite. Though you knew if you didn’t have something you would wake up hungry later. So you wandered into the kitchen and took a measly hunk of bread from the counter. You trudged up to your room feeling exhausted from the day’s events.The bread was soft to nibble on as you unpacked your satchel. As you pulled out the books to stack on the stand beside your bed, you couldn’t help but feel as though something were missing. You shrugged off the feeling and sunk down onto the end of the bed. 

With the bread now gone, you twirled the no-longer-white rose between your fingertips. Hues of orange and yellow blended with the crimson that leached through the petals. Now just the tips were the brilliant white it was originally. Though it had been many weeks since the stranger had first given you the rose, the stem was still a vibrant, healthy green. One of the thorns was stained brown by the residue of the prick it gave you this morning. 

It was still beautiful despite its sharp thorns though.

You raised the colourful flower to your nose, savouring the scent it still retained. It was not the smell of a normal rose, but of the whole forest. It was very soothing. It slowed down your thoughts until you felt a tugging at the back of your mind. The tugging grew stronger until you could feel it on your wrist as well.

_ I didn’t like that the new librarian had been so bold as to take me by the wrist to lead me down the stairs. He obviously thought I couldn’t do so myself. I tried pulling back but he was insistent.  _

_ “I could have waited upstairs whilst you brought them up.” _

_ “But there’s just too many books on history, April.” I didn’t recall telling him my name… but it is a small town. _

_ There was a door at the bottom of the stairs. He unlocked it and only let go of my wrist once we were both inside a dim room. He closed the door with a click that sounded like a lock shutting. I shrugged it off and walked a few paces back. I landed gracelessly on the hard stone floor after tripping on something.  _

_ The librarian switched on a blinding light. His footsteps echoed closer and I scooted backwards. _

_ “Tutt, tutt, helpless one. I know she made you forget, so why are you scared of me?” He laughed. My back hit the wall. He grasped both my wrists and yanked me up to eye level. Whatever he whispered, I couldn’t hear as my world went dark. _

***

_ My arms were cramping and incredibly sore. I felt chilled to the bone except for the flaming red heat coming from my wrists. I turned my hazy gaze upwards to see my arms wrapped in rope. The death-like chill was oozing in from where I was seated against the stone ground. As my sight cleared, so did my hearing.  _

_ “- tion or elixir?” I swept my gaze around to see the young librarian hunched over a small mirror holding the vial I was given. _

_ “Bring that to me.” That voice sounded familiar. _

_ “Of course.” He bowed mockingly and tucked the vial out of sight. I noticed that my satchel was on the counter with my lock picking tools beside it. _

_ “I believe your suspicions were true. After I fed her the serum and she kept questioning what’s behind the door.” _

_ “Make her forget. I’ve had enough trouble trying to keep on top of the doses here. She keeps refusing my food and drink.” My heart nearly stopped. I didn’t realise I could become colder still. That was grandmother’s voice. _

_ “Yes.She is awake now. I suggest coming to collect her tomorrow.” The brunet slowly walked over then crouched. “You’ve always been my little trouble maker, haven’t you? Here. Drink up before your prince undoubtedly comes to save you.” _

_ I tried to resist swallowing the murky green liquid, but he anticipated my resistance. He held my nose until I opened my mouth then quickly covered it and gently stroked my throat. _

_ “Until, next time, helpless one.” A cluttering noise came from the stairs as consciousness tried to elude me. _

Before you collapsed with exhaustion, you noticed that black had started to seep through the rose’s petals.

***

You woke with a burning need to find out what’s behind that door.

After many failed attempts to fall back into slumber, you decided to go to your window. Perhaps gazing into the night sky would calm you as it did when you were a child. The sounds of the night animals in the forest were familiar. They brought a sense of serenity over you. As you stared at the peaceful heavens, you reflected on what those dreams, the visions that kept coming, could truly mean.

Were they just tricks played on you by your mind, trying to figure out what happened in the blank spaces? Or were they real? You shivered at the thought and clutched your arms together to bring yourself comfort.

The night sounds ceased as a voice whispered your name.

“April. Come out… April… speak to you… please. My love...”

The only rule of your grandmother’s you had not broken was the one you thought was the most reasonable. Rule #5 was to never answer the door, or any calls from outside at night. Guilt churned inside you as you walked silently through the house and to the front door but you just had to find out more.

“Where are you?” You whispered into the night, standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Come to the treeline.” The voice whispered back, “She mustn’t see you.” 

You made your way over as the voice commanded. The earth was cold and slightly damp beneath your feet. Just before you reached the treeline an invisible force stopped you.

“Wha-?”

“Don’t try to force it, my darling. She is too strong. Even I can not come much closer to you.” His voice came from a tree to your left. You peered at it and he slowly came into view. He was still as striking as the day you tended to his wound on the trail. You wanted to ask how well it healed but you couldn’t form the words.

His bright eyes drank you in and stopped your thoughts in their tracks. His smile was soft and loving as he gazed at you. You couldn’t help but stare in return. A dark cloak adorned his shoulders which concealed most of his body. Black feathers were woven into his hair along with the golden circlet you saw the first time.

“Do you remember yet?” The stranger from the path asked gently, hopefully. Though he didn’t seem surprised when you shook your head in response.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted, folding in on yourself. Your subconscious recognised him, you felt safe in his presence, but you had no memories of him besides your meeting at the path. And those visions his rose had shown you.

“No, it’s not -” He tried to move forward to reassure you, but the invisible wall forced him back. He took a deep breath and shifted his weight to his back leg. “It’s not your fault.”

“Mm.” You hummed, looking at the ground. 

“April. Look at me.” He commanded softly. You did. “You are not to blame. The witch has you under a powerful spell that is difficult to break. It took us many years to find you. Too many and-”

He shifted again and minutely winced.

“You’re hurt.” You accused, changing the conversation. //Witch?//

He looked briefly surprised then laughed softly, “I could never hide anything from you, my darling.”

You felt warm when he called you that. However you didn’t let that distract you. “Where?” At his quirked eyebrow, you elaborated. “Where are you injured? And who did it?”

His eyes burned, you could have sworn they were literally glowing, with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“I am wounded in many places, for the talons of beasts are sharp. It was the witch who did the worst of it. You chased her away from me this very afternoon.” He moved his hair back and tilted his neck so you could see the gruesome marks. You gasped at the sight and what he had said.

“She…” You remembered your grandmother’s limp and the bloodied feather you dismissed earlier. “The vulture. That was her?” He nodded gravely.

“But witches don’t exist.” You tried to reason. “Just like Gods, dragons or elves. They’re made up. Just stories. Grandmother said -”

“Am I just made up then? Can you not see my tapered ears? My eyes that glow?” He interrupted softly.

“I-” thought I was seeing things, you finished in your head. “Who-?”

“Again, love, I can not tell you for I doubt you will believe me. Though I now see she has brainwashed you more than we thought. You are part of the elves too. She stole you.”

You searched his eyes, hoping to find a lie in what he was saying. He didn’t need to say anything else for you to find the answer you were looking for. Dread filled your bones.

“Take me away from here. Please.” You tried to break the force that was keeping you separated. 

“I want to. Believe me, I do.” He looked stricken. “But I can’t. She enforced the wards after last time - I was emotional and came too close.”

“Why can’t you break through?”

“As I said, her hold is too strong. I can not get any closer just like you can not come home to me.” His voice was full of longing and his body language screamed despair. Your heart ached in response.

“Use these to get into the door.” He tossed a small pouch. It arked gently through the air and you caught it effortlessly. The pouch was woven from long grass but it seemed deceptively sturdy. Inside were tools.

You hesitated. “These are the ones I bought?”

The handsome not-stranger laughed softly, “No, dear one. These were made by our people, imbued with magic that will unlock any door. I assure you they are much better than the ones that blacksmith made.”

You decided firmly that you would find out what was behind that door. Whatever was being kept secret from you, you would discover tomorrow night with the help of these new magical tools.

His ear twitched and his face hardened. “You must go now. She is stirring.”

Something inside you wanted to reassure him that it would be alright. All you could do was raise a hand to the invisible wall.

“I miss you. Come back to me soon, April.”

As you ran inside and stashed the tools beneath your mattress, you had a feeling he was talking about your memories too.


End file.
